To Fall As Snow
by AllyKat5'2
Summary: Boredom can lead to interesting things. Especially when one is connected by a mental bond to a teenager. M/M Harrymort. Snakelike Voldemort/side effects of snake milk/reincarnation. (Scaly skin, forked tongue, needing heat lamps etc)
1. Chapter 1

Skin so silky and smooth, tanned by heritage and sunlight combined.

"Harry."

The name is easy, always has been, just as breathing air. Just as necessary. Chase. Always chase. Can't let him get away. Must stop him.

"Harry."

A forked tongue slithering on beautifully golden skin, tasting and seeing as if for the first time. Running itself over rippling muscles. Mayhaps he'd been cruel to judge sports so harshly. Those delectable muscles were products of years of practice.

Slowly, the forked tongue trailed further down and tangled in pubic hair, not bothered in the least, before finding it's prize and circled around it, tasting the sweet salt of sweat and precum.

"My lord?"

Voldemort jolted rather violently in his high-backed chair and blinked down at his Inner Circle as if just realizing where he was. He'd been prodding at the mind-bond between himself and the-bloody-boy-who-won't-die while his Death Eaters arrived, hoping to catch the boy off guard and find some of the Orders' plans hidden in the teenager's brain. It had been rather dull searching through nonsense in the boy's brain. There was only so much prattling about whose arse looked best at Quidditch practice and homework that was due the next morning that had yet to be done-at which Voldemort scoffed in disgust, how could someone who made such a terrible Wizarding student be such a, dare he say, match to someone as himself?-before he got bored of the boy. Just as he'd been pulling back from the boy's mind, he'd caught a glimpse of himself, naked, and straddling the boy. It had caught his interest enough that he had stayed, watched the scene play out even, unfeeling, but curious. Curiouser now was that Voldemort felt an unwanted heat in his crotch and he flicked his tongue, eyes slanting further as he hissed in anger. The sooner he killed the thorn in his side, the sooner he could get on with things.

"My lord?" This time the voice was closer and Voldemort realized that Bellatrix had become concerned because he didn't give an answer. He gave her a rather vicious hiss and waved her off.

"Yaxley, report," he demanded in his chilling voice, red eyes moving to his informant even as his mind drifted, knowing already that the Death Eater had nothing of interest to say.

As the man began to speak, Nagini slithered up to her master's side and began to whisper to him as she often did.

"You are ready to mate," the annoyingly intelligent and all-knowing snake intoned in her ever-curious voice.

"I do not mate."

"You must."

"Go bother the rat." Voldemort waved off his pet in annoyance and slouched back in his chair. He should really transfigure it to a throne one day. Maybe once he found a more suitable castle other than Malfoy Manor. He flicked his gaze back to Yaxley and found the man staring back at him, Voldemort raised a hairless brow in turn the man mumbled apologies and bowed down.

"And where is Severus?" The snake-esque man asked as he stood from the chair, flowing black robes drifting about him as though he were part Dementor.

"At Hogwarts, my Lord," Lucius came forward with that information. "The old bat won't let him out of his sight."

"Damn," Voldemort hissed out, eyes flickering with his tongue. "I need him." So it was back to the board once more, to place another pawn underneath Dumbledore's nose so Snape could return to his side more frequently. He had thought Severus was more sneaky than to trip the old bat's suspicion, obviously the man had slipped up.

Voldemort dismissed his most loyal with a wave of his hand and conjured up a list of disposable Death Eaters and dark wizards as well as a war map.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Barty Crouch Jr. had been a very valuable man last year. He'd been unseen and worked in the shadows, at least until he'd slipped. Now Crouch was dead and Voldemort had lost a decent pawn. There was no way the Dark Lord would be able to send in another of his soldiers under polyjuice potion. Dumbledore would be smarter this year. Voldemort needed someone who wasn't known to be Dark. Someone inconspicuous. However, there weren't many names on that list and the ones there were too old or too young to carry out his plans without question or mistake. Red eyes slanted at the board that had been set up. He hated to admit it, but as for now, the old headmaster had him bested in numbers. He needed to start recruiting like he'd done the first time. It would be much harder this time around.

Sitting back in the heated chair, Voldemort steepled hands together, staring without seeing the board ahead of him. The Dark Lord let the heat soak into his robes and sink into his skin, warming him to the core. He let out a relaxed hiss and let his mind wander as he got comfortable.

"...Don't understand. Why can't I spend winter break with the Weasley's? I haven't done anything, broken any rules, do they not want me?"

Thoughts penetrated Voldemort's mind that were not his own. His red eyes squinted as he focused on the link. He could sense the intense anger the teen was projecting and the underlying self-hate. The man rolled his eyes. Teenagers were so overdramatic. However, he'd much felt the same at that age, he supposed. He'd hated spending the holidays at Hogwarts, but had had no where else to go. No place to call home. That struck a cord within him, another similarity that he had with the bloody green eyed cretin he was destined to kill. For a moment, he almost pitied the boy.

There was a loud noise and Voldemort realized he was still in the boy's mind, watching through his eyes, and he noticed that the entire fifth year Gryffindor dormitory was destroyed. Nightstands were upended, the boiler was cracked and releasing hot steam, feathers raining from the ceiling were the only evidence remaining of pillows, mattresses were shredded to thin slices, and bed frames were broken in near perfect halves. In the moments when the magic was still tangible, Voldemort truly felt the boy's power for the first time, and he wanted for it. He'd never wanted for anything more than in that moment, but he must have triggered something because the boy gave a startled, heaving gasp, and forced him out.

"Damn teenagers," the Dark Lord hissed out, leaning forward over his desk once more. Moody, but no doubt powerful. There had to be a way to get his hands on the boy… A trap perhaps? Potter was foolhardy and rushed in head first in all cases. What kind of trap? Who could he use as bait? How would he set it? Obviously, it had to be outside of the school, but Dumbledore seemed intent to keep everyone locked in that he possibly could. The fool wouldn't allow another mistake like last year, fool though he may be, Voldemort had to admit that he was smart. There wouldn't be a second opportunity like the graveyard. Damn, that whole fiasco had just gone to waste, it seemed.

Harry had been called up to Dumbledore's office via owl that he'd received during his nap in History of Magic. Of course, the note first reprimanded him for falling asleep during his studies, which had made his face burn in shame, before telling him he was to meet the Professor promptly after class. He'd passed the note to Hermione and Ron to let them know where he'd be. It would have to be something important if Dumbledore was contacting him by owl in the middle of class.

After class was dismissed, Harry found himself on the magic staircase going up to the Headmaster's office. He found said office to be empty, excluding the paintings, Sorting Hat, and Fawkes, who trilled softly in greeting. Frowning slightly, Harry looked around the room at the rather odd trinkets and watched the ones that spun on their own, tilting his head, curious about the objects.

"Ah, Harry, so glad you could make it, dear boy." Dumbledore seemingly appeared from nowhere and took a seat behind his desk, gesturing for Harry to do the same, which he did. "Tea? Lemon drop?" The man offered, blue eyes not sparkling as they usually did. Harry declined both.

"Sir, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Harry asked, hoping to get straight to the point. He hoped the man would answer him straight on. He was almost a full grown wizard-just two years from it-he deserved the truth more often than he received it.

"Harry, my boy, the holidays are fast approaching and as much as I don't wish to make you unhappy, I must inform you, you will not be spending the break with the Weasley family," the old man seemed worn out just from saying these words. "You will instead spend it here, with myself and most of the staff."

Harry remained silent for several moments, letting the words sink in. He breathed in deeply and something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly. "Is there a reason, sir? Have I done something?"

"No, Harry. You've done nothing wrong," Dumbledore answered, but didn't give anything else.

The fifteen year old wizard had managed to keep his temper until he reached Gryffindor Tower, but just barely. When he reached the dormitory, he began pacing, mind racing with questions that he had no answers to. Why did no one ever tell him anything? He was the bloody savior of the Wizarding World. Didn't that mean something? Finally, the anger exploded outwards and whipped around the room like a tornado. When green eyes finally opened once more, Harry was shocked at the damage he'd managed to do and then he felt the prod of something in his mind, which shocked him further and he treated whatever it was as though it were the Imperious Curse and forced it out, blocking to the best of his ability. What had that been?


End file.
